NIRVANA - The Priest They Called Him lyrics
rate me'fight tuberculosis, folks.' christmas eve, an old<br>Junkie selling christmas seals on north park street.<br>The 'priest,' they called him. 'fight tuberculosis, folks.'<br>People hurried by, gray shadows on a distant wall.<br>It was getting late and no money to score.<br>He turned into a side street and the lake wind hit him like a knife.<br>Cab stop just ahead under a streetlight.<br>Boy got out with a suitcase. thin kid in prep school clothes,<br>Familiar face, the priest told himself, watching from the doorway.<br>'remindsme of something a long time ago.' the boy, there, with his overcoat<br>Unbuttoned, reaching into his pants pocket for the cab fare.<br>The cab drove away and turned the corner. the boy went inside<br>A building. 'hmm, yes, maybe' - the suitcase was there in the doorway.<br>The boy nowhere in sight. gone to get the keys, most likely,<br>Have to move fast. he picked up the suitcase and started for the corner.<br>Made it. glanced down at the case. it didn't look like the case the boy had,<br>Or any boy would have. the priest couldn't put his finger on what was so<br>Old about the case. old and dirty, poor quality leather, and heavy.<br>Better see what's inside. he turned into lincoln park, found an<br>Empty place and opened the case. two severed human legs that belonged to<br>A young man with dark skin. shiny black leg hairs glittered in the<br>Dim streetlight. the legs had been forced into the case and he had to use<br>His knee on the back of the case to shove them out. 'legs, yet,'<br>He said, and walked quickly away with the case.<br>Might bring a few dollars to score. the buyer sniffed suspiciously.<br>'kind of a funny smell about it.' 'it's just mexican leather.'<br>'well, some joker didn't cure it.'<br>The buyer looked at the case with cold disfavor.<br>'not even right sure he killed it, whatever it is.<br>Three is the best I can do and it hurts. but since this is christmas<br>And you're the priest...' he slipped three bills under the table into the<br>Priest's dirty hand. the priest faded into the street shadows, seedy<br>And furtive. three cents didn't buy a bag, nothing less than a nickel.<br>Say, remember that old addie croaker told me not to come back unless<br>I paid him the three cents I owe him. yeah, isn't that a fruit for ya,<br>Blow your stack about three lousy cents.<br>The doctor was not pleased to see him.<br><br>'now, what do you want? I told you!'<br>The priest laid three bills on the table. the doctor put the<br>Money in his pocket and started to scream.<br>'I've had troubles! people have been around!<br>I may lose my license!' the priest just sat there, eyes, old and heavy with<br>Years of junk, on the doctor's face.<br>'i can't write you a prescription.' the doctor jerked open a drawer<br>And slid an ampule across the table. 'that's all I have in the office!'<br>The doctor stood up. 'take it and get out!' he screamed, hysterical.<br>The priest's expression did not change.<br><br>The doctor added in quieter tones, 'after all, I'm a professional man,<br>And I shouldn't be bothered by people like you.'<br>'is that all you have for me? one lousy quarter g? couldn't you lend<br>Me a nickel...? ' 'get out, get out, I'll call the police I tell you.'<br>'all right, doctor, I'm going.' of course it was cold and far to walk,<br>Rooming house, a shabby street, room on the top floor.<br>'these stairs,' coughed the priest there, pulling himself up along the<br>Bannister. he went into the bathroom, yellow wall panels,<br>Toilet dripping, and got his works from under the washbasin.<br>Wrapped in brown paper, back to his room, get every drop in the dropper.<br><br>He rolled up his sleeve. then he heard a groan from next door,<br>Room eighteen. the mexican kid lived there, the priest had passed him on<br>The stairs and saw the kid was hooked, but he never spoke, because he<br>Didn't want any juvenile connections, bad news in any language.<br>The priest had had enough bad news in his life.<br>He heard the groan again, a groan he could feel, no mistaking that groan<br>And what it meant. 'maybe he had an accident or something.<br>In any case, I can't enjoy my priestly medications with that sound coming<br>Through the wall.' thin walls you understand. the priest put down his<br>Dropper, cold hall, and knocked on the door of room eighteen.<br>'quien es? ' 'it's the preist, kid, I live next door.'<br>He could hear someone hobbling across the floor.<br><br>A bolt slid. the boy stood there in his underwear shorts, eyes black with<br>Pain. he started to fall. the priest helped him over to the bed.<br>'what's wrong, son? ' 'it's my legs, senor, cramps, and now I am without<br>Medicine.' the priest could see the cramps, like knots of wood there<br>In the young legs, dark shiny black leg hairs.<br>'a few years ago I damaged myself in a bicycle race,<br>It was then that the cramps started.' and now he has the leg cramps back<br>With compound junk interest. the old priest stood there, feeling the boy<br>Groan. he inclined his head as if in prayer, went back and got his dropper.<br>'it's just a quarter g, kid.' 'i do not require much, senor.'<br><br>The boy was sleeping when the priest left room eighteen.<br>He went back to his room and sat down on the bed.<br>Then it hit him like heavy silent snow. all the gray junk yesterdays.<br>He sat there received the immaculate fix. and since he was himself a priest,<br>There was no need to call one.
